


a man of peculiar taste

by bukkunkun



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bulges, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Dubious Morality, Embarrassment, Graphic Description of Corpses, Human/Monster Romance, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Please Kill Me, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Sort Of, Strength Kink, Temperature Play, Tongue-in-cheek, Unsafe Sex, Zombies, ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 06:46:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17782574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bukkunkun/pseuds/bukkunkun
Summary: There was a general consensus around people who knew him that Leon S. Kennedy was a good person.Leon himself would like to think he was a good person, but there were just some times where he really would disagree.(Written in celebration of Valentines Day 2019. Happy RE2make!)





	a man of peculiar taste

**Author's Note:**

> > you, an intellectual: plans on posting cutesy valentines day fic on the 14th  
>  me, a degenerate: plans on posting silly, callout porno of leon "the s stands for slut" kennedy getting railed by the tyrant mr. x on the 14th
>> 
>> — ⭕️ bukkun @ pirate sora hours 👑 (@trickscd) [12 February 2019](https://twitter.com/trickscd/status/1095332915192356866?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> listen im a degenerate this is how i roll ? hello. i don't know anything too deep abt resident evil im still learning but i have gone through the whole playthrough of the re2make and re7 (thanks 8bitryan) so i think i can ? do this ? whatever ?
> 
> anyway happy halloween, feb 14 i hope you all have a wonderful time please enjoy your stay

There was a general consensus around people who knew him that Leon S. Kennedy was a good person.

Objectively, he was a good person, having joined the force to help people, honourable to a fault, willingly jumping headfirst into danger if it meant saving someone, or for the greater good.

Leon himself would like to think he was a good person, but there were just some times where he really would disagree.

God, he wished Claire was here. He wished _anyone_ was here, frankly, so he wouldn’t worry about them, or that he would worry _more_ about them, especially with the way his heart shot to his throat at the sound of _something_ right around the corner. He’d just put out the fire that was threatening to spread through the building, offering him a way through where the helicopter crashed into the RPD, and now, standing right at the corner of a hallway, there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that told him he _really_ wanted Ada with him right then and there.

He wasn’t quite sure _why,_ not until he turned the corner, and found the crashed helicopter in his way—and then _that thing._

The first time he saw _that_ was in the jail cell, watching Ada’s informant die with a fist wrapped around his head and _squeezing,_ and at the time, he had a decent enough reaction for anyone witnessing something as horrible as _that._

(You know, recoiling, stomach curling in disgust, bile creeping up his throat, the echoing sounds of Ben’s screaming in his head as Ada sassed at him for not leaving. The like.)

But now, face to face with the helicopter finally moving out of the way, and the _thing_ that moved it aside, he felt his heart shoot to his throat, and his stomach completely seized up in shock.

“ _Jesus Christ!_ ” He gasped, and hightailed it out of there. The sight of that _thing_ was enough to get anyone to run as fast as they could, but there was something utterly terrifying about knowing that even at his top speed of running, he could hear the the giant beast’s steps grow closer and closer behind him.

Oh, _fuck._ He was so _fucked._

He rushed downwards towards the gate where he last saw Claire, panic seizing his lungs, shaking his arms as he hurriedly pulled out the Magnum. His aiming was shot ( _ha_ ) as he tried to at least point it at the lumbering zombie’s head, but all he’d managed to do was knock the bastard’s hat off, showing him his greyed face, those sunken eyes.

 _Shit,_ Leon thought. He was definitely going to die here.

He backed himself against the wall, breathing heavily, when he felt the flashbang he’d nabbed earlier press into his back tightly. Leon’s eyes widened—that was right, he had the flashbang!

He yanked it out, strength renewed as panic ebbed away from him. The giant lumbered closer, and closer—

He tore the pin out from the canister and hurled it at the zombie, wincing as he wrenched his own eyes shut, and he ran onwards past it, relief surging in his chest to see it fall to his knee.

Hope renewed, Leon hurried on, opening his eyes now to make sure he doesn’t trip and fall over himself on the goddamn stairs out of there like an absolute _fool,_ and hurried back inside the building, determined to get the _fuck_ out of there and meet up with Ada as fast as possible.

* * *

It took him a while to process the sight of the giant zombie, a good long hour or so of hurrying around the RPD building, trying not to sniffle at the sight of Marvin’s corpse where he’d left it, thinking about where in the absolute _hell_ Ada was at a time like this. In that time, Leon had run into the bastard a good five times, hurrying around the offices, the damned clock tower, and in that time he’d all but panicked each and every time he ran into it.

It wasn’t really his fault. He’d seen the way that thing just _crush_ Ben’s head with his fist, he saw the way it threw aside the helicopter, staring him down like he was some prized meat. He could almost always constantly hear the his steps around the RPD building like the walls and floors were made of paper, seemingly matching with his own footfalls as he made his way around the rickety old building.

He’d learned to walk quietly, so the damned thing wouldn’t hear him, but like as if he’d hung a giant neon sign on his ass saying ‘ _I’M RIGHT HERE, ASSHOLE_ ’, the giant still always found him, wherever the hell he was.

He’d run into Ada again at some point, seeing her steal into a safe room he’d set up near the lobby where Marvin still was, and he raised an eyebrow at her as she inspected a red herb between her fingers disdainfully.

Well, as disdainfully as someone wearing sunglasses could, but the downward turn of her painted lips was enough to tell Leon she was less than enthused to see the not-at-all offending plant in the crate where Leon had put it in.

“Ada.” He said, and only realised that she had a large purpling bruise booming out on her cheek. His eyes widened slightly, and he was quick to pull out a spare first aid spray he had on himself. She looked at him with her head cocked, and he shrugged. “You look like you need it more than I do.” He said, and she (probably?) rolled her eyes, taking it from him and turning around to sort herself out. He didn’t mind giving it to her—he’d intended on just leaving it in the box for the time being to save up on space in his pouches, anyway. “Where’d you get that?”

“I think you’ve met him.” Ada replied wryly, and Leon could see her put her sunglasses back on before turning around. “Big and lumbering, walks around like a damn mountain with legs?”

As if on cue, the monster wandering around the building’s footfalls shook the ceiling above them, and Leon frowned. Ada sighed, shaking her head as she leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms.

“Figured out how to get around it?”

“Sort of.” Leon replied, setting down the large gear he’d been carrying around in the box, and Ada watched him with mild interest as he worked. “You just… walk quietly.”

“My shoes would beg to disagree.” She huffed, and Leon sighed.

“Who asked you to dress like that on a mission anyway?” He asked, and she gave him a wry grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She said, and inspected her nails. “So, what do you make of it? That… _thing_ roaming the hallways?”

Leon shut the crate with a sigh.

“I mean…” He began, but he pursed his lips. Ada raised an eyebrow at him, and he shook his head as he straightened up. “I guess it’s not _too_ bad.”

Ada considered him for a long moment, and Leon felt like he was being scanned or something. God, she probably had some super-spy bullshit gadget that could do that on hand, too. Fucking FBI personnel and their fancy gadgets.

“Are you…” she paused for a moment, considering her words, before continuing, “A, uh… man of peculiar taste?”

Leon blinked at her owlishly. “What the _hell_ does that mean?”

He knew exactly what she meant, and needed to hightail the hell out of there before she could continue to cross-examine him like the freaky not-lawyer she was.

Ada gave him a once-over, and scoffed. “Figures.” She said simply, and pushed herself off the wall. “Whatever. To each his own. You never know, that could probably save you in the long run.”

Oh, he did _not_ like that.

“I’ll see you around, Leon. Make sure you find a way to get that parking pass.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Leon sighed, watching her leave the safe room as he scratched the back of his head, and he inspected himself in the reflective surface of the glass covering some certificates on the wall. He frowned when he realised he was flushed, and he shook his head, patting his cheeks as he forced himself to get back out there, to keep moving.

“Was it _that_ obvious?” He muttered, shutting the door quietly behind him, focusing on the sound of that giant’s footfalls as he moved. “Jesus Christ, this is embarrassing…”

* * *

Embarrassing himself right in front of Ada notwithstanding, Leon’s predicament regarding a certain large, hulking murder monster remained a niggling issue at the back of his head as he made his way through the RPD’s clocktower with that thing on his heels. The adrenaline from running away from it and shooting zombies in his way dead was enough to keep his mind off it until he came back to the prison block, electronic parts in hand.

He was almost grateful for the sight of the damned jail cells as he came running towards them, hip pouches full of ammunition and with a shotgun strapped to his back, and he heaved a sigh of relief at having to do the damn _wiring_ for the door systems to open.

By now, Leon knew to double-tap _everything._ Confident in the fact that he’d put a bullet in the heads of each zombie trapped in the jail cells, he connected the wires together, mildly amused at the fact that it reminded him of a pleasant little puzzle in a video game. The cells slid open, and he turned to look into Ben’s cell, frowning slightly at the sight of the corpse on the ground.

He would be sorry, but things didn’t really start out too well between them. Leon looked around the cell, and spotted a note on the table. Reading through it quickly, Leon didn’t know if he was grateful to finally have a name to put on that giant bastard chasing him down.

The Tyrant. It definitely fits the guy, he thought, frowning as he checked around the room, smiling slightly when he found a first-aid spray behind the toilet. He slipped the little bottle into one of his hip pouches, and turned to look at Ben’s body on the floor, pointedly keeping his gaze away from the head that had split open inside the Tyrant’s grip.

“God _damn,_ ” he muttered under his breath, “Wouldn’t want to get caught in _that._ ”

Not entirely a lie, not entirely.

The thought of the Tyrant pushing the helicopter aside with one hand still plagued his mind whenever he let it wander, and by _fuck_ if that wasn’t in the very least bit _kinda hot._

Let it be said that Leon S. Kennedy wasn’t quite a _good_ person, per se. No sirree.

Leon shook his head, feeling the beginnings of an age-old embarrassment he still had yet to grow out of, and reached forward to take the lanyard from the man’s corpse. He stopped when he saw a recorder in the man’s coat and gave it a listen.

Well, all that didn’t sound good. _Fuck._ He had a lot of questions for Ada when they met again.

He picked up the keycard and flipped it over in his hand, inspecting it with a frown, but when he deemed it just a commonplace little thing, he slid it into one of his hip pouches. Hopefully Ada would be alright. Hopefully the both of them could get out of this damn place alive. Hopefully he can find Claire, and her brother.

Hopefully.

Lots of _hopefully_ could never compare to to definitely, but it meant something, at least.

He pulled the shotgun off his back, and headed out of the jail cell carefully—only for the alarm to go right the hell off, and his heart shot to his throat to block it off, ineffectively choking off his gasp as a brand new wave of zombies began ambling over to him from wherever the _hell_ they came from.

God, this _sucked._ Taking aim and firing, he’d managed to take down four of them before giving up, seeing far many more ambling down the hallway with no end in sight. He needed to save ammo, and he needed to get _out_ of there.

(In hindsight, that first aid spray he found was indeed suspiciously placed. Damn.)

Leon dodged past snarling zombies, panting heavily as panic threatened to seize his throat and his limbs. He forced himself past it, swallowing past the growing lump in his throat as he headed to the entrance of the prison block—

And there it was, the absolute bastard. The Tyrant came striding into the room, and Leon swore.

“Give me a break!”

He immediately turned on his heel, heading back into the prison block to try losing him as his hands grabbed at his pouches for a flashbang. He didn’t have time for this, damn it—hell, he definitely was so close to getting out of the damn building, he wasn’t about to give up now.

Ada was counting on him, or at least he _hoped_ she was. He had to get out of there, _alive._

He heard more than saw the Tyrant toss aside zombies in his way like rag dolls, and he swallowed nervously at the sound of their bodies slamming against the bars and simply _breaking._

Because he absolutely didn’t ask, his mind immediately jumped.

 _Fuck,_ the Tyrant was so big and strong.

Leon tripped over himself at the thought, and he internally cursed himself as he was sent crashing to the ground. Well, he was going to die here, that was for sure.

He let out an undignified yelp when he felt that large, _large_ hand wrap around his body, trapping his arms to his chest, effectively rendering everything in his arsenal useless.

Fuck, the guy was _big._

The Tyrant picked him up easily, because Leon didn’t weigh like a helicopter did, and the rookie braced himself. He wrenched his eyes shut and waited—

But the squeeze didn’t come, and not a single blow came crashing down onto his head. Leon dared to open his eyes to realise the Tyrant was looking at him. Sunken, grey eyes inspected him carefully, unmindful of all the other zombies snarling and scrambling at his coat as he effectively blocked them away from Leon in the corner of the jail block.

The blond blinked at the zombie, and the Tyrant stared back.

“Uh…” This idea was stupid. “Please don’t kill me?”

Worth a shot.

The Tyrant huffed, and slung Leon over his shoulder. The man let out a shout of protest, squirming in the giant’s hold, but there wasn’t much he could do as he was carried out of the jail block. Behind them the zombies still followed after them, because of course they wouldn’t know any better, but the Tyrant took them all out with a swipe of his tree-trunk arm, and they all went flying, splattering against the jail cell bars as he simply strode past them without a care in the world.

Leon gaped at the bodies strewn over the floor, sliced into pieces from the sheer force they were thrown at the bars with, and swallowed nervously.

Oh, shit. He thought, oh shit, oh _shit._

There were repercussions and benefits to being a man of… _peculiar_ tastes, as Ada had put it so delicately, and growing hot under the collar at the display of sheer strength was… blurring the line between the two. Leon was getting dizzy with the way the Tyrant lumbered around, swaying left and right precariously, and all he could really focus on was the fact that while the monster he was pressed up against was like hell frozen over, his own body was on fire.

Jesus Christ, Leon had _issues._

An old ex in the Academy had said something about that a long time ago. Something something, spread his legs for any big guy he met, something, slut, something size kink. Leon didn’t quite remember, but then again, the guy was a shower and not a grower. Not a lot to say for himself, but maybe the Tyrant was the latter and _oh my fucking god do not start going there, Kennedy._

He didn’t know where he was being taken, but he’d somehow lost awareness of where they were going until he was dumped unceremoniously on something horizontal. Leon realised they were in the infirmary, and his eyes widened when he realised that he was on a gurney.

Sure, his head was still spinning, dizziness still lingering as the gurney rattled underneath his weight, and dimly he could hear the sound of snarling zombies from far away. He made a move to get up, but a large hand, freezing cold and solid like a block of ice, pressed down on his whole torso, and Leon’s breath hitched in his throat when he remembered what brought him there in the first place.

The Tyrant peered into his face, the expressionlessness almost _curious_ with the way he regarded Leon with great scrutiny, and the rookie’s cheeks grew hot at the attention, his skin prickling with pinpricks of hot and cold underneath the Tyrant’s touch. The cold temperature of his body bled through the gloves he wore, piercing the Kevlar Leon had on him as his own elevated body heat clashed with the Tyrant’s incongruous cold. It pressed down on his chest, just on the side of restricting, and Leon could feel his bones creak in protest.

Oh, fuck. The Tyrant could easily press further down, harder, and he could squeeze Leon flat.

Terror flared in his chest, his breaths scattering and stuttering over panicking, fluttering ribs and shuddering lungs, but something else mixed in with it, poisoning his breaths with something far more intoxicating than fear.

Arousal spiked inside him as the Tyrant’s hand grounded him against the rickety gurney, and Leon knew its supports would immediately snap like twigs if the Tyrant put his weight on it. The cop squirmed, mortified that he could even summon the brainpower to _think_ like that, but the Tyrant pushed down on his chest some more, practically cutting off his air supply, as his ribs began to ache in protest.

Tight, threatening, grounding. A warning, Leon realised, a demand for Leon to _stop moving._

Oh, fuck, he was going to break something. He couldn’t breathe. The pressure against his body pressing him down onto the gurney was… oddly soothing, grounding almost, and Leon found himself rather enjoying it, mortification growing further and further as embarrassment began to override the terror seeping into his mind.

The Tyrant was so fucking _strong,_ and by _god_ it was doing _things_ to him.

Leon fell still, choking on the lack of air that was making it to his lust-addled head, and the Tyrant let up his hold on him somewhat. All the blond could do was look up at the beast, flushed and panting softly past parted, wet lips with his arms splayed out on either side of his head, and the Tyrant gave him one last look—as if to tell him to _stay put_ —and turned around.

Leon almost sat up to take a look at what it was going to do, but he didn’t have to, not when he heard the _splat_ of zombies slamming against the walls, torn limb from limb, until they were the only two left there. Leon stared up at the Tyrant as it turned back around to look at him, and flinched, squeezing his eyes shut when the giant thing reached down towards him—

And cupped his face in his hand. Leon’s eyes shot open to see the Tyrant cup his cold, cold hand against his face, and he shivered, feeling his heat seeping into that cold sink like pressing a can of ice-cold beer against it. It felt… _good,_ in a strange way, hot and cold mixing together in a pleasant, prickly sensation that felt so relieving and yet so utterly frustrating. An itch that wouldn’t go away, but was colder than a god damn freezer. He watched, breath baited, as the Tyrant stroked his cheek in a surprisingly tender gesture, and Leon shuddered slightly, unsure whether or not to lean into the creature’s touch.

Any decent human being should be disgusted. Horrified, _terrified_ out of their mind.

Oddly— _stupidly_ —enough, Leon felt neither. He’d never felt safer than he did right then and there, trapped under the bulk of a giant zombie creature, being touched like a precious prize that was so fragile he could break with a single puff of breath.

In hindsight, the Tyrant probably had that setting, because _of course it would,_ and the fact that Leon felt _safe_ spoke volumes about whatever issues Leon was packing with him, but all rational thought flew out of Leon’s head when the Tyrant leaned down and pressed their mouths together.

There was no finesse to it—a dead mouth with withering, solid skin pressed against Leon’s lips, warm and soft, _alive,_ but it sent a jolt of sensation down the cop’s spine anyway. He shuddered as the Tyrant scooped him up from the gurney, one monstrously huge hand coming up to hold the entire expense of his upper back and the other cupping his ass and the back of his thighs, pressing Leon to his chest as he pressed their mouths together in some facsimile of a kiss.

Well, not exactly a facsimile, Leon thought. The Tyrant likely didn’t have enough faculty to know _how_ to kiss someone. It didn’t know anything, but it was damned to try anyway.

A for effort, with bonus points for sincerity.

Leon, for all his efforts of trying not to enjoy the feeling of this large, hulking mass of what felt like solid muscle that was thankfully not rotting, felt himself melting against the Tyrant’s body like this was some sort of bad romance novel, sighing into the kiss.

It was clumsy, but it was a kiss nonetheless.

The Tyrant seemed pleased with this development, and Leon couldn’t find it in himself to complain. He felt those large, _large_ hands shift underneath his body, moving him back down onto the gurney, and Leon was no stranger to what was about to happen next. He parted his legs on instinct, ignoring the screaming in the back of his mind— _he was deadass about to have sex with basically a zombie, really?_ —to pay attention to the way the Tyrant settled between his legs, so wide in girth that Leon was almost doing splits to straddle his width. The blond swallowed nervously as the giant pulled back, inspecting him with those blank, grey eyes, and Leon took a sharp breath when he leaned forward to rest his weight on top of Leon, that heavy, reassuring weight that immediately had Leon’s body go limp in utter submission.

(God _fucking_ damn it, his ex at the Academy was right when he said Leon was a natural at this sub business. God damn it.)

For once, Leon wished his head would just stop _thinking._ This felt so good, so reassuring and so cold-hot—

There was a sickening sound of something cracking, and the next thing Leon knew, he and the gurney were crashing to the ground. He couldn’t help yelling in alarm as his back and head slammed against the thin mattress and then the backboard of the damned thing, and his head spun again.

Shit, he hoped he didn’t have a concussion. That would _suck._

The Tyrant didn’t seem deterred, though, and it didn’t seem to have fallen down with Leon. It remained standing, bending over to reach for Leon’s Kevlar vest. It seemed content to get their business done on the floor, and hey, if it wasn’t _that_ broken, Leon figured, there wasn’t really any need of fixing anything. The Tyrant’s hand closed around the material and _pulled,_ and in another place, another time, Leon would have found the too-loud sound of cloth ripping extremely arousing.

But for now, it wasn’t a great idea to be tearing apart the Kevlar keeping his ass alive.

“Wait! Wait!” Leon stammered, scrambling for the Tyrant’s hand, and the giant looked at him. Leon withered under his judgemental gaze as his hand wrapped around the Tyrant’s giant fingers, and gently pried them away from his clothes. “Don’t… tear them. I could die out here if this isn’t closed properly.”

God, he didn’t even know if the Tyrant could understand him, but that was made clear when it gave him a sound of confusion, maybe even petulance. Leon shook his head, efficiently stripping himself of the Kevlar and his pouches. “I’m gonna need all this stuff if I want to make it out of here. That’s just how it is.”

Bold of him to assume he was going to make it out away from the _Tyrant,_ of all things, but Leon wanted to stay optimistic.

He set down his pouches and the Kevlar aside on the floor on the opposite side of the Tyrant, feeling more and more self-conscious with the way the giant watched him so keenly. Still, Leon kept himself going, pulling his gloves off before working on his uniform with oddly sterile, methodical hands, feeling like he was stripping down for a medical examination than, well…

 _Having sex with a giant monster._ Good _lord._ There was no way he was going to explain himself out of _this_ one, but he wasn’t really exactly an unwilling party in all this. Ada’s reaction told him she was expecting him to be into fucking monsters, and Leon didn’t know what to make of _that._

That, and she didn’t _seem_ to care if he was into that or not. Small mercies.

The Tyrant made a noise—impatience, and Leon realised he’d stopped in the middle of stripping, caught up in thoughts of embarrassment. His hands had stopped right before he slid his shirt off, and he laughed nervously, looking at the giant over his shoulder, and bit the bullet.

“Okay, big guy, I’m getting there…” he muttered, and pulled his shirt off, shivering slightly as the cold, damp air hit his overheated skin. God, it was warm under all that Kevlar and his uniform. He’d been taking the heat for granted, he realised, and now, he could really appreciate some semblance of warmth, _anything—_

Leon _yelped_ when he felt the Tyrant’s massive hand on his skin, and he realised it had touched him with his glove still on, biting, searing _cold_ stabbing into his very core harder than any combat knife, and Leon shuddered, falling back against the collapsed gurney with a moan.

“ _Fuck,_ that’s cold!” He gasped.

 _Fuck,_ that felt _good._

Somewhere far, far away from him, he heard something clattering, and Leon’s eyes shot open, slapping his hands over his mouth.

He forgot about Ada. Oh, god. _Ada._ Where was she?

“I-I, uh,” He said intelligently, “Hey, just a minute, um—”

The Tyrant growled at him, a low, guttural sound that Leon felt right at the bottom of his soul, and the blond shivered. He pressed his hand down against Leon’s chest again—another warning—but Leon shook his head, patting the Tyrant’s hand in mild panic.

“N-no, hold on, I have someone—she’s somewhere in the building, I—”

The Tyrant _rolled his fucking eyes, holy shit_ and slid his hand down Leon’s chest, melting the blond’s words into a shuddering gasp as he cupped his giant hand over Leon’s straining erection, already tenting his pants and pressing a wet spot right on top of the obscene tip. Leon moaned helplessly, rutting up into the Tyrant’s hand as thoughts of Ada fled his mind and the sensation of sweet, sweet _friction_ on his dick sent a rush of pleasure down his spine. Leon arched his back, canting his hips into the Tyrant’s touch as biting cold clashed with the heat of his body, and he threw his head back when he felt his hand palming him in slow, sensual circles. Body twitching, he threw his legs further open, whimpering as the pressure was too little and yet _too much,_ and done by a hand so _big_ that the span of his palm utterly dwarfed Leon’s body.

Oh, _fuck_ this. There was just no way he could _think_ like this.

His hands shot down to his pants where the Tyrant’s hand was, pushing it aside with a huff and ignoring the giant’s huff of protest, but he was quickly placated when Leon’s fingers deftly undid his fly and began to desperately shimmy out of his pants and underwear. It was the fastest he’d worked since the beginning of this absolute nightmare of a situation, the clearest his mind had been, and for a moment Leon had a startling moment of clarity to allow him one small realisation.

He couldn’t _think,_ at least—not _decently._ When people were horny, they could accomplish amazing things, apparently.

The Tyrant seemed to catch on, though, and helpfully lifted Leon’s hips into the air. He almost yelled in surprise, but he was more concentrated on getting his pants off, yelling in triumph when he’d finally managed to toss them aside, and there was that brief, glorious moment of triumph at finally undressing, before self-consciousness reared its ugly head again, and Leon realised what he was doing.

He was stark naked with a raging erection standing proud and upright underneath a giant monster man who killed a man by crushing his head with his fist, and said monster man was holding him up by his hips as if Leon was a burger, and the Tyrant was about to take a bite out of him.

Which he did, of sorts.

Leon jolted in shock when the Tyrant leaned forward, his hands shooting down to ineffectively stop the giant as he moved down, thick thumbs spreading his cheeks apart. Somehow his frazzled brain made the connections it needed to make, but Leon realised far too late what the Tyrant was going to do.

A surprisingly hot, _wet_ tongue slid out from his mouth, and pressed tentatively at Leon’s entrance. The blond moaned, throwing his head back against the mattress as all rational thought flew out of his head, and the Tyrant took that as encouragement, slipping the tip of his tongue inside him with a pleased grumble, the vibrations of his voice reaching right into the very core of Leon’s shuddering body.

 _Fuck,_ this was good. It felt so _good,_ and Leon gasped when the Tyrant’s tongue slid inside him further, slick and hot, the feeling of it slightly spreading him open sending shockwaves up his spine. Leon could only lie back, dazed as the Tyrant tasted him, stuffing whatever he could of his tongue inside Leon in a heated, intimate slide, and the rookie’s toes curled in pleasure when he felt fingers start joining that devilish, slick tongue inside him. Leon choked slightly when the Tyrant lifted his hips some more, rendering his whole body immobile, and he relished the feeling—utterly restrained and pinned down, helpless to the Tyrant’s advances as he ate him out like the sweetest treat he’s ever had.

God, Leon could struggle and squirm all he wanted, but that iron grip on his hips would not give, and that tongue inside him would absolutely not quit. His dick throbbed in interest, twitching as the Tyrant slowly began to fuck him with his tongue and fingers, getting him loose and soaking wet with hot, slick saliva.

Shit, was the T-virus contagious through bodily fluids? Did Leon even _care_ at this point?

The Tyrant pressed his face into Leon’s ass, fucking him deeper with his tongue as his fingers wiggled into him, and Leon gasped, his hands balling into fists in the sheets underneath him. God, he felt so helpless like this, a slave to the pleasure roaring in his veins, trapped underneath the bulk of this giant creature, held prisoner in a grip harder than iron. He was _definitely_ going to bruise, and it only made him grow impossibly harder.

Leon struggled to breathe as the Tyrant stuffed two thick fingers into him, feeling himself stretch out wide, wider than he’d ever felt before, and it was like he was a virgin all over again, squirming and gasping, making abortive little sounds from parted, desperate lips as the Tyrant fucked him deeper and wider than anyone ever did before.

God, he’d be _ruined_ for anyone at this rate, and Leon couldn’t find it in himself to care.

The Tyrant seemed to be enjoying himself, too, growling into the swell of Leon’s ass as he stretched Leon wide open, and the blond could feel his orgasm building in his gut, threatening to tip him over the edge. His cock went swinging to the rhythm the Tyrant set as he fingered him roughly, and Leon _screamed_ as another finger was stuffed into him, stretching him out wider than ever before.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he was chanting, either as a plea or just out of being so overwhelmed, Leon didn’t know, but the Tyrant seemed to stop, pulling away from Leon’s ass to look down at him. The blond was flushed, collapsed down against the gurney with a blissed-out expression on his face, his hands useless by his head as he looked up at the Tyrant with hazy eyes. He could feel the threat of his orgasm receding, and he resented it. “Why’d you stop?” He whined before he could stop himself, and he didn’t have enough time to think about what he said when the Tyrant put him down, pulling down his own fly to pull out his own cock.

And Leon’s jaw dropped.

The Tyrant was _huge._ Hung like a horse, his thick, greyish cock stood upright in the air, radiating a sort of heat-cold that made Leon shiver at the sight of it. The Tyrant wrapped his hand around it, and it almost looked normal-sized, but when Leon sat up to reach out and touch it, his fingers barely touched as he wrapped his hand around it.

Oh, he was _big._ Leon’s wide-eyed staring seemed to please the Tyrant, though, earning him a rumbling growl of approval, and greyish-white cum leaked from the bulbous head when the Tyrant squeezed his fist around Leon’s comparatively tiny hand. Leon swallowed nervously, and his mouth went dry.

“Will it… will it _fit?_ ”

He didn’t know, but _god,_ he was going to try anyway. The Tyrant seemed to like the idea.

In hindsight, Leon should have seen it coming. The Tyrant was once a human person, with a presumably working cock. It only seemed logical that the T-virus would enhance everything, even that.

It was so much bigger than anything Leon had taken, and not even dildos could compare. He licked his lips, and leaned forward to taste him.

The Tyrant threaded his fingers through Leon’s hair as he guided Leon down to his cock, breaths coming out in abortive little puffs as Leon closed his lips around the large head, moaning softly.

He was just on the side of lukewarm, and he tasted surprisingly sterile. Nothing much but like the clean taste of a fresh piece of plastic, and Leon really felt like he was just giving a blowjob to a dildo. Nothing new, then.

With renewed effort, Leon swallowed down as much of the Tyrant as he could, feeling himself drool as he felt the thick dick hit the back of his throat. He reached up to stroke the rest of what he couldn’t take with his hand, and gave him a tentative suck.

That did the trick—the Tyrant growled and tightened his grip in Leon’s hair. Leon moaned, sucking on his cock with the desperation of a man starved, the obscene slurping sound of his messy blowjob filling the room and going straight to Leon’s dick. The cock in his mouth grew hotter and hotter as Leon slurped on it, and the rookie shut his eyes, relishing the feeling of being _used_ as the Tyrant’s hips began to rut against his face, fucking his mouth lightly with how tightly his dick was stuffed between his lips. Leon made a move to reach down to touch himself, but was suddenly pulled off the Tyrant’s cock by the hair.

He whined, lost in heady, submissive subspace, but he barely registered the sensation of being picked up again. Leon slowly opened his eyes to see he Tyrant peering into his face, as if trying to study it. Between them, Leon’s dick pressed up against the Tyrant’s own hot cock, the both of them painfully hard and leaking.

The blond gingerly rutted against the Tyrant, pleading him quietly to get a move on, and he let out a squeak of alarm when the Tyrant picked him up and turned him around, settling down on the gurney before sliding Leon onto his lap. His breath caught in his throat as he looked down at the way he straddled the Tyrant’s monster cock—it jutted out underneath his erection like a damned _log,_ and it rubbed deliciously up against Leon’s tight balls.

“Mmph—fuck,” He said, rocking his hips back against the Tyrant. “Please, please, please…”

He didn’t need to say anything more, really, but he thought the Tyrant would like to hear him ask so nicely. He certainly seemed to enjoy Leon’s begging, though, his cock twitching in interest between Leon’s thighs, and his hands went down to splay Leon’s thighs wide open. The blond could feel his hamstrings begin to protest, but that was soon forgotten when he felt the Tyrant lift him, the head of his erection pressing against Leon’s entrance.

Leon squeezed his eyes shut. He waited for the breach to come, but instead there was that startling, terrible pause that followed, the Tyrant not moving an inch. The blond opened his eyes again, and looked up at the monster—only to realise that he had been looking at him, almost as if in question.

 _Ready?_ Said the look in the Tyrant’s eyes, and Leon’s breath hitched.

“Yeah.” He said, “Do it.”

His voice pitched into a high, breathy gasp when the Tyrant dropped Leon down, his cock sliding into Leon with a mercifully fluid thrust that felt so white-hot. The blond’s eyes widened as he threw his head back, feeling himself split open in the most _delicious_ of ways, the pain and pleasure of it all blurring into an addictive, heady cocktail of sensation.

Oh, he was big. Leon was _ruined._

The Tyrant carefully sheathed himself into Leon, sliding in all the way to the hilt as his large, unforgiving hardness pressed into Leon’s inner walls without respite. Leon’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, jaw falling slack as all he could manage was expletives—

_“Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!”_

And Leon clung onto the Tyrant desperately as he adjusted to the large girth inside him. The Tyrant was mercifully patient, grumbling softly in what felt like soothing coos as his large, freezing hands swept over Leon’s overheated skin. The disparity in temperatures made the blond’s dick twitch—the glacial, terrible cold that was pressed firmly to his back only enhanced how _hot_ the Tyrant’s cock felt inside him, and Leon could not get enough of it. He looked down at himself, and choked slightly when he saw the slightest hint of a bulge on the lower side of his belly. Gingerly he reached down to touch the Tyrant’s cock through his stomach, eyes wide in wonder, and the monster behind him groaned, growling into the crook of his neck as it traced hot, hot trails on his skin with his tongue.

Panting weakly, he squirmed in the Tyrant’s lap after a moment too long of waiting for the monster to start truly fucking him, but he positively _screamed_ when the Tyrant grunted and lifted him off his lap, right until the tip of his cockhead was inside.

“W-wait—I’m actually—um—”

It was token resistance, really. Hell _yeah_ he was ready to get railed six ways to Sunday, but some rational part in his mind still decided to say something. Not that any of that mattered, though.

The Tyrant slammed him down on his dick again, and Leon became incoherent. The giant set a brutal pace, using Leon as a rag doll of a sex toy as he bounced him up and down on his lap as he wanted, and all the rookie could do was to hold on and take it.

“Aah— _nngh_ —fuck, _yes—_ ”

He was helpless, being manhandled so roughly while being pounded so mercilessly felt like nothing else Leon had felt before. Oh, this was so _good,_ and Leon didn’t know if he could settle for anything else after this.

If he made it out of there _alive,_ anyway, but that was another issue for another time.

Leon moaned when he felt his orgasm approaching again, throwing his head back against the Tyrant’s shoulder as he let himself go, feeling himself tumbling over the edge.

“I’m—!”

He came untouched, spilling white on his stomach, on the gurney underneath them, and the Tyrant _roared_ as Leon’s walls squeezed him tightly. He rutted into the blond one, two, three more times, until he stilled, and Leon felt hot, searing _hot_ cum pump into him, hard like as if he was being hosed with it. He whined, feeling it fill him up almost to the brim, and he could feel some of the Tyrant’s cum spill out from inside him.

The both of them sat there, panting heavily in the afterglow, and Leon’s mind finally caught up with him.

“Ah, _fuck._ ” He groaned. “I had sex with a T-virus zombie.”

The Tyrant looked at him for a long moment, before pulling him off his dick with as much finesse as one would yank out a thorn from their skin.

Which, frankly, wasn’t much at all, and Leon shouted in alarm and pain. The Tyrant had half the mind to gingerly set him down, though, somehow apologetic in the way he lowered Leon to the gurney, and stood up. The blond paid him no mind as he sat back, reeling from the shock of the Tyrant’s dick leaving him feeling oh so _empty,_ distracted by the sensation of his cum dripping out of him and onto the gurney.

God, this was _messy._ The whole thing, physically, the probably emotional and social repercussions to having sex with the Tyrant.

Leon jumped when something was dropped on his head, and he realised they were towels. He looked up at the Tyrant, who was still staring at him, and he laughed nervously.

“You, uh, have better bedside manners than some of my exes, huh?”

Smooth. Real smooth.

The Tyrant grunted, and much to Leon’s surprise, turned on his heel. The blond could only watch as the giant lumbered away from him and headed out of the room. Leon waited until he couldn’t hear his steps anymore, still surprised at the turn of events, and looked down at the towels in his hands.

“Huh.” He said intelligently, and got to work cleaning himself up.

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell when i gave up trying to write the ending
> 
> the s in leon s kennedy stands for slut i don't make the rules capcom called me and said i was right


End file.
